


Return

by HerdOfTurtles



Series: My sad attempt at whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Manhandling, Mentioned France (Hetalia), Richard is an actual jerk, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerdOfTurtles/pseuds/HerdOfTurtles
Summary: He may not have a choice in the matter, but England is going to fight back anyway.Written for Whumptober 2020, prompt: Manhandled
Series: My sad attempt at whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949041
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> waow each prompt I write is shorter than the last
> 
> *brain dead*
> 
> have a blrb. a kinda pre-crusades blrb. Like a kid fic for England without any of the fluff.

"Let me go!" England screamed and kicked, fighting and thrashing against the large arms overpowering him. His body squirmed, twisting, trying to escape those strong, rich, gold adorned hands. His short legs barely kicked the floor.

"Shut up!" A voice far more annoyed than hindered snapped. The king twisted his flailing arm backwards and England yelped.

Fighting and thrashing should not be allowed for a country against a monarch. No resistance should be allowed. Not a doubt should ever be raised, not an objection made, no defiance against the will of those gifted power reigning over the land. 

No personification should leave their designated land permanently, either.

His tired legs continuously struck out into the air and toward the king. Richard didn't seem to care.

"Please, you- don't take me away! I'll do anything! I'll-" the king muted his mouth and forced his jaw closed with a powerful grip. He tried to jerk away from the tight, skin whitening grip, but he was captured, bound in all manners whatever. He may have lived centuries, old in mind and intelligence, but his body lagged far behind. He was cursed, he was certain. No natural being stayed eleven for decades, immortal country or not. England figures that the young body was a curse to control him, because with his weak, small stature anyone could do anything against him. Without his intellect or his king he would be hopeless, and with a disgusting french speaking king who refused to listen, his weapon of a mind was useless. 

Richard, the French speaking bastard, dragged him harsh down the hall. Towards France. Richard wanted to uproot him and make him live in France.

England bit the king's hand-- then a sharp string of curses spilled into the hall and England dropped to the floor with an audible thud. A slamming, painful thud. The impact crushed his lungs and spun his head, his world throbbed, and he didn't move fast enough before those arms were on him again, riveting him in place, tighter than before.

"No!" He kicked the man's shin, who swore again.

Something french came from the man's lips and England fought harder.

Once more his arm received a painful twist, only this time it was purely from England's own struggling that he was hurting himself.

"I swear I would sell this whole country if I could find a buyer. Far too much trouble than you're worth." Richard vowed in broken English, and tugged him forward, dragged him down the entire hall, and through the castle. England grew weaker and wearied the longer and harder he fought, and he fought until he was so drained that all he could do was breath heavily and hang limply while sliding a single foot across the stone floor. 

Soon he couldn't even do that. He didn't want to resign his fight, but the body he had could not go on.

He was going to France. He would leave his people for years and be forced to fight a distant war. It wasn't even his war! But Richard was a Norman- a conquering, foreign Norman- and his people where bound to the ruler as he was. England was afraid. Truly, isolated and afraid.

He could imagine the bloodsoaked battlefields already. That land once Rome... that wartorn land across the sea. Richard said they were going beyond even that. Richard said they were going to a dust dry place filled with enemies of Europe, to win a war in the name of a city he'd only heard of in olden books.

**Author's Note:**

> FUN FACT ZONE!! FUN FACTS FOR THE FUN FACTS GOD!! YOUR MANDATORY USLESS INFORMATION OF THE DAY HAS ARRIVED!!
> 
> -Richard spent pretty much his entire reign in France  
> -He spoke almost no English. He was born and raised in France  
> -He legit said he'd sell the country of England if anyone would even want to buy it.  
> -Also, that's like... a near direct quote  
> -The guy spent his whole life fighting all he cared about was fighting he got captured once and England had to double taxes just to pay for his release.  
> -He died nearly as soon as he got out because he did't even return to England he just started another fight  
> -But he wasn't as bad as his brother so it's ok I guess  
> -Freaking king John stopped England from ever having a real king Arthur by drowning a kid in a river.  
> -what a loser.


End file.
